


In Love

by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: F/M, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-16
Updated: 2012-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:52:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/pseuds/Sandrine%20Shaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love makes Marius a poor poet, a bad revolutionary, and an even worse observer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Love

"You're late."

 _Again_ , but Enjolras didn't say that. Didn't need to, really, because his eyes were blazing with something that could have been anger at best or, at worst, bitter disappointment.

"Sorry," Marius offered meekly, not bothering with excuses. He shuffled under the other man's scrutinizing gaze, knowing that even if Enjolras might let him get away with it now, he'd pay the price later when he had to face Enjolras' wrath alone and without the others around to protect him.

He sat down at one of the tables quietly, knowing it wouldn't do him good to disrupt their leader's speech any further. Enjolras went on without as much as a glance at the late comer. It didn't bode well for him, Marius decided. Angry glares he could have coped with. This frosty disregard, though, was another thing altogether.

Grantaire slid into the chair next to his, setting a glass down in front of Marius. "She has really stolen your heart, your pretty little ghost, hasn't she?" he said, a good-natured smile on his face. "Where were you now? Daydreaming about her again?" His speech was less slurred than usual. For once, the drunkard actually appeared to be just a few glasses beyond sober.

"Not just daydreaming," Marius assured his friend in quiet, hushed tones. He grasped Grantaire's hand, the worry about Enjolras' reaction to his lateness forgotten for a moment. "I saw her tonight. I talked to her! She's…" Words failed him, but the broad smile on his face said it all.

Grantaire's laughter bellowed through the room; and Marius winced at the sharp look Enjolras sent them.

"The revolution may seem funny to some," the blond-haired boy continued, turning back to the others. "But let me assure you, it is not."

Marius shrunk further down in his seat. Grantaire just grinned. "If I were you, my friend, I'd pick a more suitable time to visit your lass in the future. I think our fearless leader is getting a little jealous that she gets to spend more time with you than he does."

From the table in front of them, Lesgles turned around with a frown. "Or it might be that he sees too little of you at our meetings, Marius, and too much of you instead," he hissed, glaring at Grantaire.

The older man merely grinned and raised his bottle to him.

"A toast to that!"

Exasperated, Lesgles rolled his eyes and turned back, as if deciding that the two were not worth his attention anyway. Marius sighed and rested his chin on his arms, staring forlornly into the distance. "When I'm with her, I don't notice how quickly time is passing. She is like the sun, only brighter. Like a song, only more melodious. Like -"

"Leave the verses to Prouvaire," Grantaire chipped in. "Being in love doesn't necessarily make you a poet." He took another swing from the bottle. "But, you know, Lesgles here might have a point. 't won't do you any good to not to attend any of Apollo's precious meetings, or come barging in half an hour too late, waxing lyrical about some girl."

Marius frowned. "Coming from you, that's rather ironic."

"Aye." The other man smiled. "But you're not me. And unless you're prepared to be on the receiving end of our demigod's wrath, you would do well to remember my words."

With that, he stood up and left Marius' to his own thoughts. He felt almost a bit sorry for the boy, knowing that Marius' good spirits would be somewhat deflated thanks to his reminder of what consequences the young student's behavior would eventually bring. Grantaire raised the bottle again, smiling wanly. When had he become the voice of reason anyway? Irony indeed.

* * *

  


Marius still sat where Grantaire had left him when the meeting was over and the café gradually cleared out.

Enjolras busied himself rolling up some scrolls, and only looked up when he detected a movement from the table in the corner. "I thought you had already rushed off to whatever kept you busy all evening," he said dryly.

Marius' looked downcast, his earlier good mood completely gone. "I'm sorry."

"You are repeating yourself." Enjolras focused on the scrolls again, not raising his eyes to talk to the boy. "So, what has been more important than the revolution, then?" he asked. It might have sounded almost casual, if it weren't for the slight edge in his voice.

"Cosette."

That, at least, got the blond's attention. He regarded his friend with a frown. "Who?"

"The girl I ran into the other day. I found her. Or maybe we found each other." Marius smiled fondly, his worries forgotten for the moment. "Have you ever been in love, Enjolras? So completely that the world consists of just you and her, that it made you forget there's anything else that matters at all? The way we met… I think… I believe this was meant to be."

Little did he notice the storm brewing on the other man's face. "Well, congratulations," Enjolras said stiffly, gathering the scrolls and roughly shoving it into his bag. "If, heavenly intervention notwithstanding, you should remember that you have friends and they need you, you know where to find us. Unless of course you manage to forget that as well."

He was halfway out of the door when Marius' anguished voice called him back. "Enjolras!"

"Look, Marius, I have more important things to do than stand here and listen to you talk about your girl. The revolution won't wait just because you're suddenly in love. Nor will I. Goodnight." The blond student briskly strode away. The door fell shut behind him, leaving Marius behind in the dark café, his only company the waitress cleaning up the tables.

He stared at the door, silently willing Enjolras to come back.

"He is angry with you, your friend, eh?"

Marius looked up at the plump woman. Enjolras, doubtlessly, would have told her to mind her own business. But there was a kind, motherly look on her face; and he was not Enjolras. Smiling wryly, he admitted, "It's because of a girl."

"Ah, the matters of the heart!" A knowing smile tucked at the corners of her mouth. "I remember those days, when I was young…" She interrupted herself. "But don't be a fool, boy. A few years from now, you'll have forgotten your li'l lass, and so will he. 't's not worth destroying a friendship o'er this."

 _Funny,_ he thought. _You mention a girl and immediately, people jump to conclusions._ But still, she was right about that last thing she said. Quickly giving her his thanks, he hurried off to find their leader.

* * *

  


Enjolras opened at the third impatient knock, regarding him with the intensity of anger which was usually reserved for Grantaire. "Marius, do you want to test my patience tonight? You are late for the meeting, then you ramble on about that girl of yours, and now you come barging in here in the middle of the night. Do you have any idea how late it is? Some of us actually use the night to study and sleep." Still, he stepped aside to let Marius in, and the other man did, knowing that the gesture was the only invitation he'd get.

"I wanted to apologize," Marius began; and when he saw that Enjolras was going to interrupt him, he hurried on quickly. "I… When you left the café, there was this waitress, and I said we were fighting because of a girl. She misunderstood, thinking you were jealous, which I know you're not, but she was right when she said that we should not let that come between us, because… we are friends, and I know that there's the revolution, and that there's Cosette, but there's nothing that says that we have to let one get in the way of the other." He realized he was babbling, so he stopped himself, hoping that he was at least making some sense.

Enjolras merely stared at him for a long moment. "Of course I am not jealous. It wouldn't become a _statue_ to be jealous, would it? Anger is the only emotion Apollo is capable of, after all."

The other man frowned, uncomprehending. Enjolras didn't seem so much angry as he was resigned now. Marius felt as if he had missed something essential to understand the sudden mood swing, something he should know but that slipped past his awareness. "I don--"

"Go home, Marius," Enjolras interrupted. He sounded tired.

Something in Marius wanted to reach out and offer comfort to his friend, but he didn't let it surface, knowing that Enjolras wouldn't react well. "I'm sorry," he offered, a little helplessly. He could only pretend to understand their exchange when he really had no idea what Enjolras was talking about. Oddly enough, he was struck by the sudden realization that Grantaire would understand. But Grantaire was not here, only him; and for all the man's drunken rambles, he was a much wiser person than Marius, if only by experience.

Enjolras frowned again. "So you've said. Apologies count very little when one does not know what one is apologizing for, though." His face hardened. "Now, if you excuse me. It is well past midnight."

Marius nodded miserably and went to leave, looking utterly dejected.

He was already out of the room, about to close the door behind himself, when Enjolras called out, "Marius! Don't be late again tomorrow."

Marius didn't even try to stop the bright smile from coming out, lighting up his whole face. "I won't," he promised, thinking, as he slipped off into the night, that everything would be all right.

He did not see Enjolras staring after him until the darkness swallowed him, nor did he witness the frustrated anger as their fearless leader drove his first into the wall, fighting back silent tears. Marius didn't see, and if he had, he wouldn't have understood.

The next day, Apollo was back, haughty composure intact and unruffled; and when Marius entered the café - ten minutes early, this time, Enjolras merely gave him a cut nod.

__

Epilogue

  
"You made the bed, you lie in it," Grantaire told their blond-haired leader later that night, when Marius had long since rushed off to the girl he claimed to be the love of his life. The non-sequitur made Enjolras' head snap up, and he sent the man in the corner a sharp gaze. He was torn between admiring the drunkard's talent to pick up on other people's emotions, and reprimanding him for the comment. He chose to do neither, nor did he take the bottle Grantaire offered him.

"I do not need your sympathy, winecask," he hissed, perfectly aware that despite the harshness of his words, he had just acknowledged that the other man's observations were right, implying that he trusted Grantaire not to let it get any further.

For a moment, their eyes met across the room. Grantaire nodded.

__

Fin.


End file.
